


Muse

by Monti_B_Lewis



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 13:49:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5419430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monti_B_Lewis/pseuds/Monti_B_Lewis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sasuke is an artist and Naruto is his muse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMadKatter13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadKatter13/gifts).



> This is a small gift ficlet for TheMadKatter13. She basically gave me the prompt "artist!Sasuke and art!Naruto" and this is what happened.
> 
> Listening to Penderecki while writing really brings out the weirdest shit in my writing.

The brush hits the canvas, bristles crawling over the surface, colours blooming into a fantasy.

He sits in solitude, surrounded by whirlwinds of pigments and canvases, deathly fumes twirling around his head. But he is content. As long as he is with him.

The Uchiha compound is deathly silent. As always. Sometimes the old wood creaks and Sasuke is reminded of more colourful times. Now, there is no sound, safe for the occasional bird finding its way into the vast garden and singing. Spring has come, tearing out the cold from the hard, dead ground and forcing life back into the soil. You could drown in that colourful sea of flowers.

Sasuke spends hours sitting in front of blank canvases.

Thinking.

Waiting.

Waiting for him to come. He cannot call or summon him. And so he waits. And thinks.

Sometimes it takes hours. Sometimes it takes days. Weeks. Those times are the most difficult. Those times when he can neither eat or sleep without fear of accidentally missing him. What if he comes and Sasuke is not there? What if he appears and Sasuke is not ready?

And so he thinks. And waits.

Sits in front of the blank canvas, the garishly bright garden spread out beside him.

Then he's suddenly there; all bright colours: a gold so vibrant he could feel its warmth, a blue so clear he wouldn't mind drowning in it.

And so he paints.

Slices the canvas open with blazing oranges and caustic greens, lets his fingers be eaten away by that enthralling cobalt blue; suffocates himself in the fumes of those bewitching colours.

All so he can finally see him.

* * *

 

It takes hours.

The sun dies and dips the garden in burning blood reds and ghostly purples.

And still he is suffocating.

These times are the most happy. These times when he is on the edge, tip-toeing on the verge of explosive chaos and bleak nothingness. These times when he can finally see him.

It takes hours, but eventually he takes shape. His eyes become alive, his hair so luscious Sasuke feels as though he could touch it. His skin glows with life.

_Naruto…_

Suddenly he is smiling at Sasuke. Looking at him with eyes that he did not envision.

Predatory.

He seems to shift within his birdcage of colours, slowly eroding the layers of paint that encompass his mesmerising world.

Sasuke watches as the cage melts. Watches as cobalt blue eyes close in on him.

He can finally feel his warmth. The warmth of the cadmium red mixed with barium yellow and antimony white. His hair is just as vibrant and soft as he had imagined, glowing in shades of naples yellow and chrome orange.

Now he is glad that he chose these colours. They are the only ones that could possibly capture this being in its entirety.

Cadmium orange hands glide over Sasuke's cheeks, arms wrap around his shoulders. Vermillion lips devour his, claiming his breath, his life. Suddenly he is engulfed by his own chaos.

He lets himself drown in it.

His own creation.

His muse.


End file.
